


Comfort Zone

by NanakiBH



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Confrontations, Daydreaming, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13325433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanakiBH/pseuds/NanakiBH
Summary: Change, please.





	Comfort Zone

**Author's Note:**

> If you just look at the tags here, you might be like, "Nana, how could you!" But, like always, no worries. Akechi isn't hurt... Physically. (That's kind of the point of this one.)
> 
> I felt like this could've been longer or maybe required more build-up, but I didn't want to suffer for that long. You probably wouldn't have liked that, either. lol This much is fine. The scenario here is similar in ways to that of Bloodstained Oblivion, except this concludes on a more positive note. Since this takes place in an alternate universe where Akechi lives with Shido, I had to make an exception and refer to him as "Goro". That makes me feel weird.

It was all worthless...?

What was it all for if he got cold feet in the end and allowed himself to get swept below by the undertow? Struggling seemed like nothing more than a laughable display of egotism if it wasn't sincere. To falter at the last second, loosening the stranglehold he'd tightened so slowly and carefully, letting him go...

Did it make him a fool for wanting to believe that there was still a place for him beside him?

Escaping sounded easy, but it was also pointless. He wanted to be free, but he didn't want to escape. He didn't want to leave. Simply, he wanted things to be different. Even if it made him a fool, a part of him clung to the hope that something would change – that the perfect future he envisioned could be a reality. If he could imagine it so clearly, then it had to be possible.

He wanted to find it.

Before the anger consumed him.

Before waves of sadness swallowed him.

Before even that perfect world in his mind's eye became a distant figment, replaced by the thousands of other worlds in which such happiness was impossible...

Each time he imagined himself slipping beneath the black waves, he saw his hope surmounted by darkness. From that point, it became a little harder to hold that hope in his heart. He feared that there eventually wouldn't be enough room left in his heart for it anymore. With each cold stare, each insult, every impersonal touch, his insides blackened and the image of his ideal future also grew a little darker. It wasn't easy to picture it without subconsciously injecting it with a dose of the tasteless drug called realism.

He didn't want to lose it – even his fantasy, if that was what it was all it was ever meant to be.

When even in those dark daydreams he thought he abandoned hope, his hand remained clutched firmly around it. He hoped that tender part of him would remain forever, always holding on. It seemed like the only way he could survive the real world.

 

“Hey.”

 

At least he wasn't dead. For some reason, his daydreams always ended that way. Easier than finding a real solution, maybe.

 

“Hey. Goro. Are you seriously high already? For fuck's sake. Keep your hands off my shit. What am I going to do if they kick you out of school, huh? Do you even have a brain?”

 

Goro rolled his head to the side to look at the clock on the bedside table.

School was going to start soon. He wasn't even in his uniform yet, lounging on his father's bed in his underwear, a joint loosely held between two of his fingers. When it was snatched away, he slowly dragged up his eyes and watched as his father contemplated it before setting it in the ashtray next to the bed. He looked like he was ready for work. It must have shocked him to find him misbehaving.

The thought made the corners of Goro's mouth twitch and curl. From time to time, he liked defying his expectations. Even if it made him mad, Goro liked knowing that he was capable of defying him at all. That option was there if he wanted to choose it. One day, if he so chose, he could've just... left. But then he never would've had the satisfaction of seeing the shock on his father's face at the moment he realized he'd been abandoned by him.

Pacing around next to the bed, his father shook his head and muttered to himself. “What's the point of even having a kid if he isn't going to work hard so he can take care of me when I'm older...?” He stopped and turned toward him, piercing through the fog in his head with the sharpness of his judgmental glare. “That's the way things work, you know. It's called filial piety. If I'm going to pay for your education and let you stay under my roof, then the least you could do is repay me with respect.”

Right. He wasn't his responsibility, after all. It was “that woman's fault.” He was her choice. Her mistake. The fact that she killed herself and left him with his father was her mistake, too, apparently.

His life...

Everything...

He was just some kind of leftover or something.

 

“Well? Are you listening? Get up.”

 

Just one little act of rebellion to remind himself that he could...

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Ah, he looked so pissed off. The way his skin creased under his eyes when he sneered was cute. “Get up. Do you _want_ to get expelled?”

 

Goro couldn't say he hadn't thought about it. It would've been easy to spite him by letting his opportunities rot, but spite wasn't a fix. His father always found uses for him, so even a useless child wasn't completely useless. Even if he became empty, he still had a body. The idea of saying 'fuck it' to the future and curling up comfortably under his father's arm almost sounded alright, but Goro knew better. He knew that the hurt and the anger would remain. Even if he managed to make himself numb to it, he knew he'd never be numb enough to ignore the emptiness.

Considerate as his father was to do the minimum of what was expected of a parent, there was no respect in him to share. It didn't matter how tightly he held him in the night. His father's heartbeat was hollow. Even his hottest touches were frigid.

Goro knew how stupid it was. He was as desperate for him as a man lost in the desert's heart, but the oasis he scrabbled toward was nothing but a mirage. He knew, and yet...

Shaking his head, letting his thoughts scatter, Goro sat up and reached for the remainder of his smoke. As soon as his hand neared it, of course, his father's hand appeared around his wrist.

“What do you think you're doing?” he said, grip tight. “It'll be a miracle if no one notices the way you smell. How do you plan to hide bloodshot eyes?”

“Eye drops? I don't know.” He yanked his wrist away from him and stole the stub from the tray and made off with it as he got off the bed. “It's fine. Don't worry. I'll take a shower.”

“And be late?”

Rather than raising it to his lips, he crushed it in his hand. Slowly, Goro looked over his shoulder at him, the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Can't you let me have even a _minute_ of happiness? Every week, I go to school for _you_. Forget about me and my interests. All that matters is that I get a job that pays well enough to support you and your expensive taste that you can't afford. It's not my fault you failed to make it as a politician and ended up as someone's lapdog instead, alright?”

Goro saw the heat in his eyes, but he knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. It never went anywhere. It was just always there, smoldering, constantly getting hotter, making them both miserable.

He didn't even say anything.

Goro laughed as he gathered his day-old school clothes off the floor to wear again.

“Whatever,” he said, smirking to himself as he put on his pants and fastened his belt. “As if a wretched old man like you could've ever made it anyway.”

“You have an awfully sharp tongue for someone who's high. The hell's gotten into you?”

“Yeah, it's unfortunate, isn't it?”

Normally, he was obedient. Knowing that nothing he said would ever change things, he usually kept his head bowed and did whatever his father told him. It took less effort to simply go along with him. He yelled at him a lot when he was younger – especially after he first started living with him. His mother hadn't been perfect either, but her death made their already-complicated relationship even more complicated.

To her, he was too much like his father.

To his father, he was too much like her.

He seemed to be the worst of them both; the rotten child of two rotten, miserable people.

“It's fine,” his father said, letting go of everything with a sigh. “Just get yourself ready. If there's something you want to talk about, we can talk about it later.”

No, they wouldn't.

That smile on his face... It was almost endearing. It was the same smile he praised him with. It was the smile he used to crush the anger within himself. It never leapt forth. With that smile, he kept it suppressed, always sealing it up where it would continue to fester, never to be released. It came out in harsh words and painful remarks, released whenever they'd strike hardest. And then it was always sealed back up by that smile dissonant enough to cause whiplash.

Goro wanted to love it, but it turned his stomach.

At one point in time, his smile roused his hope. His mother was gone, but his father was still there for him.

Was he, though? Had he ever been...?

It was so fake. That man only smiled to make him do as he wanted.

 

In his next daydream, he'd surely die again if nothing changed.

He didn't want that...

 

“You're a good boy, you know. That's why I believe in you, Goro.”

 

Good?

He didn't want to be good.

 

Goro kept his mouth shut, though, submitting once again to the fact that nothing he said would change anything. It wasn't much, but he was glad that his father had at least already gotten tired and turned to praising him instead of carrying on. That was his way of dealing with the situation. Never fixing things. Never. Because nothing could be his fault. A pat on the head was his way of making him shut up. He didn't like being reminded of his own failings.

Nothing Goro said ever got through to him. Even when he was kind. Even when he held down his feelings and tried to speak with him rationally.

Was there any point in telling him about his daydreams? He probably would've just laughed.

Still...

 

“This time, I imagined you were on your way to becoming Prime Minister – not without my help, of course. I had this whole plan to take you down once you reached the top.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To make you appreciate how necessary I was.”

Sitting on the bed next to him, his father gave his shoulder a shove to get him moving. “That dream's dead. It's kind of irritating that you'd think that up just to-...” He groaned in frustration and let the thought die there. He must've shared the same thought; if that dream of his had become a reality, things still wouldn't have been much different.

Just like Goro thought, telling him didn't seem to change anything.

Frustrating.

“I died,” Goro said, his voice calm and dispassionate as he continued getting ready for school. Shirtless, he knelt on the floor to unzip his school bag and shoved his things inside.

It was weird that he didn't receive a response, wasn't it?

Hadn't that been a troubling thing to say?

Any parent would've been concerned about something like that.

Right?

“I always die,” he said.

“The hell are you telling me for?”

 

_I don't know._

 

He couldn't tell him the rest. It was too childish, like the part where a group of young heroes miraculously changed his heart. They shared faces with kids from his class – no one he was personally familiar with, though. His voyeuristic observations of their lives transformed them into his image of what normal was supposed to look like. Even with the flaws he imagined for them, they were able to carry along...

Even though he didn't know them, he really hated them. They seemed to be everything he wasn't. They had everything he didn't have.

Flawed and happy...

He wasn't seeking 'perfect'.

 

His father got up. He started walking away.

 

Goro's fingers curled around something in his bag.

 

He didn't want to be good. Being quiet and obedient hadn't helped. Speaking hadn't helped, either, but he wanted his feelings to be heard. The thought of crushing those feelings in his chest was too much to bear. Trying to force them down felt the same as dying.

“You're mad, aren't you?” Goro said. He kept his back turned, didn't want to look at his father, but he heard his footsteps stop and knew he was listening. “I can't be the only one. Isn't it hard for you, too? Have you totally given up on yourself or what? What is it? You can't be happy like this.”

That man wanted to be a politician. Where'd all his fighting spirit go?

Goro took a glance over his shoulder and stared at his father's back.

“I'd do anything for you. You know that.”

His father sniffed. A partial laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Is that all...?”

“You're going to be late.”

Their relationship was hard to explain. His father was a pretty well respected man, familiar to everyone at his school even if he hadn't made it big like he'd planned. Goro only dreamed of having that kind of notoriety – of being a prodigy or an exceptional talent whose voice could be heard, whose opinions mattered; a musician, a star athlete, a pop idol, a young ace detective... But he wasn't anything like that. He had an ego without any desirable qualities or skills to seemingly justify it. He attracted others by force of sheer personality alone.

They weren't that different from each other, but other people didn't know that. His father was just riding his old reputation, blowing smoke in everyone's faces with his spinning wheels.

Whenever Goro casually tried to mention what his father was really like, no one ever believed him.

Apparently, if he didn't have a scar to show, then he didn't have anything worth complaining about.

Sometimes, he even started thinking that way. He was never forced to do anything he didn't want to do. He could've left whenever he wanted. His father was probably right about everything. Quietly dedicating his life to him, in some ways, felt like the right thing to do.

But it was sad.

That was the part he hated.

It didn't have to hurt. He was sure of it. His ideal was simple. All Goro wanted was to be acknowledged, appreciated, loved... He didn't think that was asking for too much. If, one by one, he released those simple hopes he held for the future, he feared that only the unpleasantness of the present would remain. And if he allowed himself to embrace that reality, then he was scared that he might really turn into that person he saw in his imagination – that person who'd become so fed up with being looked down on.

That was him. A part of him.

It was angry and filled with all kinds of terrible, dark feelings. That part of him, his father didn't know. He may have seen its footprints, but never its fangs.

His father's ideal... Mn. He probably thought he could get away with running away forever without ever turning around to face him.

That was stupid.

He should have turned around and noticed when he had the chance.

The part of Goro that sharpened its fangs in secret had his fingers curled around the craft knife he found at the bottom of his school bag.

 

It was small. Not very sharp.

Sharp enough to stab him in the back, though.

 

He couldn't imagine himself spending another day in school for him, solemnly marching his way toward a future where they were both unhappy. He couldn't do it.

 

“G-... Goro...?”

 

His father sounded confused. The pain must have been obscured by shock. When he turned around and the knife was driven into his chest – when their eyes met – he must have finally realized what he did. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. One of his hands weakly rose to hesitantly touch the one that held the knife, but Goro pulled it away before he could touch him and drove it into his chest again, aiming for a new spot.

With his other hand, Goro pushed him against the bedroom doorframe and held him there, stabbing and slicing and yelling out loudly in a way that would have probably been heard by anyone nearby. Tears unexpectedly sprang to his eyes and ran down his face as he wailed. He couldn't stop his hand. He felt ashamed of himself for crying, but his tears perfectly matched his anger.

“Do something!” he yelled, lifting the bloodied knife. His father's only form of retaliation seemed to be the hands frozen on his shoulders. “Hit me, you bastard! Do you think you're innocent just because you've never laid a hand on me? If that's really what you think, then you aren't even human. How did you make it this far without realizing that I'd snap?”

The hands on his shoulders briefly tightened. They relaxed as his father looked away from him. “Don't talk like that.”

“Like _what?_ ” Goro laughed bitterly at his absurd response. “Did I misspeak? I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking about. Just how strong did you think I was?”

“You're a good boy... You're not like this.”

Was that why he was just standing there? He'd been stabbed, but he was able to arrogantly stand there like nothing was happening because he was confident that his own mistakes couldn't hurt him. Goro would've been impressed if the thought didn't also make him feel sick. His father must have thought he could get away with anything because he let him.

Goro grinned. “Good? Compared to you, maybe. The thing is–” He sunk the knife into his chest, gave it a twist and relished the scream it provoked. “–I'm not like you. But I wish I could be. I wish I didn't give a shit. I wish I could only care about myself.”

When he was that close, he hoped that he was able to see his seriousness. Even when his father looked away, he wasn't able to avoid his eyes for long. The longer their eyes connected, the harder it seemed to be for him to escape reality. With apprehension in his expression, their gazes remaining locked, he slowly lifted his hands and placed them both around the one gripping the knife. By the look in his eyes, Goro could tell that he still wasn't going to hit him.

Tears just continued to flow down his face.

His father would probably never hit him. He wouldn't take the knife and turn it on him. Yet, Goro still got the feeling that he was going to die.

 

The way he held his hand felt comforting.

 

That time, he was the one to look away.

 

“I don't want to hurt you... I don't wanna die... But I don't want to keep living like your slave, either.”

“Then fuck off, already.” It sounded like he was trying to pick his usual attitude, but the bite wasn't there. His eyes narrowed with a feeling like worry. “Why haven't you?”

If his father couldn't understand the most basic thing, then it was no wonder he felt like he was talking to a wall.

“How stupid are you...?” Goro muttered, hoping to make himself sound as mystified by his stupidity as he felt. He carefully pulled the knife away and stared at the blood along the edge. “You're my father. I don't know if that means anything to you – sometimes, I really wonder – but it means something to me. I wish it didn't. I wish I could just forget about you, but I can't. And you know that, don't you? You use that...”

That was just the truth; painful and impossible to deny. His father may have been stupidly dense and narcissistic, but at least he didn't have the audacity to tell him he was wrong. But apparently he also didn't have it in him to tell him that he was right. His mouth stayed closed as he stared at Goro's face.

“All those things you say about making myself useful to you... It's actually not a problem for me. I'd do anything for you, like I said. I really would. But I can't respect a man who doesn't respect me.”

Even though he'd sent a knife through his father's chest, Goro still hopelessly got the feeling that it hadn't been enough to make it through to his heart. It had to be in there. He wanted to keep digging until he found it, even if it meant tearing them both apart.

“Say something,” he said, moving himself closer, pinning him to the doorframe with his body. “Tell me why you're like this. Actually _say something_ for once instead of dodging the subject. I'm so tired of that. I want to know what you're thinking. I want to know what makes you so angry. Do you-... Do you really not care about me at all?”

His silence made Goro want to scream.

What was that silence supposed to mean? Was he right about that, too?

He really...

Even though he worked so hard for him and tried to hard to earn his respect and appreciation... He didn't even care?

 

“Scared.”

 

It was said so quietly, Goro thought his ears had been mistaken for a moment. But he clearly knew what he heard.

He leaned closer.

“...What?”

His father tried to look at the floor, but, with such little space between them, there was nowhere else for him to look but at Goro's face. He looked utterly ashamed of himself. “Anyone who gets to know me knows what a shitty, unlikable guy I am.” It sounded like he was trying to explain. Pausing to take a breath, he closed his eyes for a moment and clenched his teeth as if biting back the ego that fought to keep him from speaking honestly. “I don't want you to leave. I thought I had to make you stay. You're the only thing I have left.”

His words struggled out. Only a few at a time. Goro breathed them in.

Relaxing his shoulders, releasing the tension in his body, he backed up a step, finally feeling like he was able to relent. “Your ego can't stand it, huh? Failed relationship... Failed career... So you thought you might as well get some use out of me.” He nodded to himself, sadly understanding. “You're so pathetic. Do you even think of me as your son?”

The silence returned, more disappointing than ever.

“Fuck. You need to think about it?”

But the silence was an acknowledgment. It was his father's way of speaking without using words. He was still there, looking at him, neither avoiding the question nor trying to lie. His answer was clear, but even he seemed to have trouble admitting it.

It wasn't much, but it was something. He may have just barely scratched the surface, but Goro felt like he'd finally spotted evidence of a heart. In the real world, there were no heroes who could magically change his father's heart and instantly make him a better person. He would've been waiting forever if he was waiting for that to happen.

 

A real conversation...

It actually sounded possible for once.

He really looked forward to it.

 

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

Groaning, his father pressed the heel of his palm to the cuts on his chest. The wound on his back left a smear of blood on the wall as he slid down to the floor. Even though he was applying pressure, blood continued to seep from the wounds, darkening his white shirt. “I can't go to work like this. This isn't going to stop bleeding with a bandaid.”

Without thinking, Goro's hand reached for his back pocket, but he hesitated before taking out his phone. “I... I can't call an ambulance,” he said. He would've been in deep shit if he did. Whether or not his father was dealing with it in stride, paramedics wouldn't have laughed off such conspicuous injuries as an 'accident'.

“Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. I know somebody who can stitch this up for me.” A man with multiple stab wounds in his chest and back had no business grinning like that. “It'll be fine if I miss work. I bet they'll think it's funny if I tell them what happened... You can't miss school, though. You're going to be late as it is. Get going.”

It was going to be a shame if he fucking died before they got a chance to improve their relationship...

Keeping a skeptical eye on him, Goro backed away into the hallway. In the bathroom, he washed the blood off his hands and also thoroughly cleaned his craft knife. He retracted the blade on it and put it in his pocket. It was going to go back in his bag along with the rest of his things.

He opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and let his eyes wander over the things they had inside, but he didn't think there was anything in there that would be useful to his father. They didn't even have eye drops.

When he came back and saw him sitting there slumped against the wall, Goro didn't feel proud of himself. Things shouldn't have needed to escalate to such a level. Like a normal family, they should have discussed their feelings with each other and come to a solution for their problems that didn't require violence. So, even though that much seemed like what his father deserved, it wasn't right. Goro couldn't be happy about it.

They weren't normal. They were probably going to always solve their problems in unconventional ways. But that was going to be okay if it meant that they'd ultimately be happy.

“Did you take care of it?” Goro asked.

His father closed his phone and set it down next to him on the floor. Putting his head back against the wall, he looked up at him, his expression hard to read. “He's on his way. You should get out of here.”

Class was probably starting, but Goro's feet didn't want to take him away just yet. Even though his father didn't deserve his company, he wished that he could stay there with him. Eventually, he reluctantly turned away. “Let's talk again later, okay?”

“Yeah.” A long second passed. “I mean it this time. I'll talk. But I'm probably just going to sound like an asshole...”

“Because you are one,” Goro laughed.

Before he could begin walking away, he felt something touch the back of his hand. He stopped and looked down and found two of his father's fingers lightly touching his hand. The others were covered in his blood.

It was kind of touching. It made Goro smile a little.

He didn't have to worry about getting his blood on him. There was something inherently funny about that idea to Goro, knowing that he shared his blood.

Gently, he removed his hand and took a short detour into the bedroom to put on his shirt and grab his bag. He pushed the closed knife all the way back down to the bottom underneath his books and zipped it up. After fixing his tie, he put his bag over his shoulder and returned to him.

“I'm taking off now.”

“'Kay... See ya...”

Oh dear. He looked woozy.

“Don't die while I'm not here.”

“Uh-huh...”

Kneeling, Goro leaned over and gave his cheek a light kiss. Before he stood back up, he made sure to catch his eyes. “I'm being serious. I don't want to lose you too.”

His father gave him a lopsided smile tinged with a sense of regret.

 

When he later walked into class, every head turned to look at him. Thankfully, his fellow classmates only remarked on how unusual it was for him to be late. He just had to smile and laugh and rub his neck like he was embarrassed to have slipped up. His good record made him easy to forgive.

His teacher simply gave an amused sigh and shook his head.

“Nice of you to join us, Shido-kun.”

**Author's Note:**

> The boy who sits behind Goro leans forward and whispers, "Did you know you smell like weed?"
> 
> Goro leans back. "Did you know I know about the cat in your desk?"


End file.
